Harry Potter and the Rite of Ascension
by AwfulLawful
Summary: When the Malfoys run into severe financial trouble years after the war, Lucius decides it's his son's responsibility as heir to get them out of it, by any means necessary. Harry Potter attempts to aid the Malfoys, only to bring his own brand of chaos into the situation.
1. An Unpleasant Development

This is also Post-Epilogue. I seem to be better at starting stories than finishing them, but it shouldn't take me long to get back into the swing of things once I get used to my new sleeping schedule.

* * *

Gregory Goyle had been the first to offer.

Draco had barely managed to contain his astonished fury whilst blithely refusing the absolutely audacious suggestion that they 'help each other out'. Whatever innocuous statement, phrase, or gesture had made the fool believe for one instant that Draco was so hopelessly desperate for Galleons that he would debase himself that way was a mystery. Or a grave mistake. One that the blonde would make certain he did not repeat.

Once safely home at the Manor he reviewed his behavior and speech for hours. He poured over his memories of the evening laboriously trying to search out a single moment of vulnerability or allusion. Draco, eventually satisfied, came to the conclusion that Goyle had simply gone mad. In no way, shape, or form had Draco in any way implied that he was available for consort. There had to have been a grave mistake.

At least that was what Draco thought until it happened again. Three weeks later a quite prestigious witch twice his age from Spain cornered him at a wedding. He turned her down politely, citing several credible excuses and peppering his words with compliments so as not to overly offend her before narrowly escaping to the drinks table. That was where, moments later, he was set upon by yet another witch with an indecent proposal- albeit a politely phrased one.

Resolving to leave the party early despite the scolding it would certainly earn from his parents, Draco claimed a mild illness and made his way to the door as quickly as he could without making it obvious he was fleeing with his tail between his legs. These were certainly unnerving and frankly frightening coincidences. Draco almost forced himself into believing he had simply misinterpreted legitimate propositions until, on his way out, the bride's Mother and hostess of the reception offered him a room upstairs to recover in with quite an obvious tone.

Up until that moment Draco had avoided thinking on the humiliating possibility that his status in the pure blood community had changed so profoundly in the years since his father had squandered the majority of their fortune away trying to reclaim the Malfoy's place in society. He was no longer able to deny it: thrice at this one event alone he had been offered gifts, favors, gold or lavish surroundings in exchange for his intimate company. Draco Malfoy was being treated no better than an heir to a fallen house or even a pure blood squib - no place of prestige or honor in the noble circles yet still of pure enough stock to provide the wealthy and influential with private entertainment.

Someone, someone terribly vindictive, had publicly announced Draco Malfoy's availability for consort.

He certainly wouldn't put it past any of his old acquaintances from school to put out such a vicious rumor. Many of them had survived the trials after the war by the skin of their teeth and had been forced into similar situations simply to get by. Draco himself had barely escaped Azkaban (on Potter's word alone) and managed to get a job as an Archivist at Gringotts by utilizing an interview tactic that came dangerously close to pleading. There were simply no places for those with the Dark Lord's Mark anymore. Only those families without direct ties to Voldemort were thriving in the pure blood society now.

The rest of them might as well be wearing scarlet letters.

Draco winced at precisely how accurate that thought comparison had been. It was true, wasn't it? They were seen as tainted in some way that could never be erased. No amount of exoneration from the Wizenegmot or testimony from the boy-who-lived or effort to behave themselves was enough.

Nobody wanted to hire a Death Eater. They didn't want to work with, live near, sell to, or buy from them either. Most that had found work were out of sight in small offices scratching quills to paper, washing dishes in kitchens, cleaning up after guests as janitors, or even hired as servants to those too delicate to bear the thought of House-Elves in their manors. The jobs usually designated to squibs or the talentless and crippled were now Death Eater responsibilities. It was socially unacceptable to have them work anywhere else.

The scant few that had still been wealthy enough after the Ministry raids had fled the country at the first opportunity, leaving behind everything they couldn't carry with them. And of course the Ministry for the most part had simply assumed these properties were 'gifts' left behind to aid in war reparations.

To make matters infinitely worse for Draco he knew that this rumor could single-handedly ruin all chance of him or his son thriving in the way a Malfoy aught to. Most humiliating rumors faded with time, but one such as this? It would linger for decades, even if proven false. The best he could do at this point was inform his parents of the situation, lie low and do his best to smoke out the perpetrator of this utterly unforgivable injury of his pride.


	2. Castles and Consorts

Please forgive the sudden drop in writing quality here - I have little time to revise today and I wanted to get this posted quickly.

* * *

The invitation had shocked Lucius into spitting out his tea. Dumbfounded, he stared at it while ignoring the house elves that scurried to clean up the mess.

He had been waiting to get the formal invitation to Miss Parkinson's wedding all week, hoping she had found a relatively safe place to have it given their social standing after the war. At least most of the assassination attempts had stopped by now, but there was always the chance a big social gathering like a wedding might be raided. The address of the event was what had startled him into such an ungraceful action.

Potter's so-called 'Estate' was actually a Castle, and a ludicrously large one at that on par with Hogwarts itself. He had only seen it once, years ago when he had taken a trip there under Narcissa's insistence they formally thank Potter for speaking for them at the trials. Lucius had mistaken it for a mountain in the wane light of the stormy evening with the backlighting of the sunset behind it. He was sure the Dark Lord would be rolling in his grave out of jealousy if he knew Potter owned what was likely the most impressive, intimidating structure in the wizarding world. If the Malfoys had possessed such grandeur they certainly wouldn't have bothered with so much modesty in referring to a fortification like this one as an Estate rather than a Castle. Then again this WAS Potter's home and he could call it a shed if he wanted to.

Though he didn't much care for social gatherings anymore, Lucius was forced to attend to be sure Draco didn't botch yet another opportunity to fulfill his obligation to the family. The decision to announce his son's availability for consort had come about the moment they had been faced with the very real chance of losing the Manor. It had been a difficult decision, but a fast one. As Heir the boy was responsible for ensuring their land and legacy stayed where it was supposed to, no matter the personal cost. A Malfoy hadn't been a consort in more generations than Lucius was comfortable counting, but he knew it had to be done.

Convincing his son had been another matter. It had taken weeks of constant convincing and explaining before his son had eventually surrendered and agreed to it: but only so long as the family's future could be guaranteed by debasing himself in such a way.

The wedding was the perfect opportunity to mingle and meet with as many prospective benefactors as possible. Lucius would not allow Draco to ruin this chance, even if it meant they may run into Potter again.

It would seem that Pansy had asked Potter for his protection so that the wedding wouldn't provide a convenient target for Death Eater sympathizers to attack the pureblood guests while they were distracted with merrymaking. Of course the hero had agreed and offered his rather impressive gardens and courtyard as not only the place for the ceremony and reception, but he had prepared rooms in the castle for everyone to sleep there after the reception concluded as well. It was a grand gesture given the past that most of the attendees had with him, but the boy was nothing if not forgiving and a hopeless Hero- his capacity for both was impressive by anyone's standards. It would have been a surprise if he'd refused.

Being the inheritor of the Potter, Black and various other fortunes (some having been willed to him after his defeat of the Dark Lord) The-Boy-Who-Lived had unwittingly ended up the wealthiest man in all of Europe's Wizarding world. Which was apparently a bad thing for some reason, as he had quickly tried to rid himself of it despite the constant influx of Galleons that the Goblins had to take shifts counting.

Potter's Autobiographies were the highest earning books in history and had even been released in storybook form to the Muggle world as well, under the guise of being written by a Muggle friend of his. As far as Lucius knew, the woman had squandered a large amount of her part of the profits on charities. Either taking her example or simply having planned to, Potter donated insane amounts of his gold to war recovery efforts, constructed several hospitals and halfway houses for anyone that might need them and appointed some of his most trusted friends from school to run them. He erected memorials and paid for repairs to Hogwarts, gifted those who were in financial trouble enough to keep them comfortable for the rest of their lives (the Weasleys were now almost as well off as the Malfoys had been at their peak several hundred years ago) and set up a special account specifically to help students at Hogwarts who came from poor or Muggle families afford their supplies and uniforms.

His nonstop spending on charitable causes had apparently inspired people to send him MORE gold as donations and gifts, so it began to seem counter-productive. He had blocked off his main account by this point and had all of his 'gifts' sent directly to a charity pool that was currently maintaining a steady in/out flow, and Potter had made it perfectly clear through the newspapers exactly what he had done: he would accept no more personal gifts and encouraged people to help out each other instead. When he had run out of things to spend his still substantial accounts on he simply gave up and resigned himself to being a wealthy eccentric.

Then he got bored and built a bloody castle.

Upon his arrival Lucius couldn't help but look around him at the towering structure, noting at least two other properties besides the castle proper within the bastion walls. Far from being worn as an old structure aught to be, this place looked at its peak of power and glory; all shimmering windows and freshly cut stone with gardens that hadn't quite grown in yet with the feel of centuries behind its roots. It was a new estate, designed by Potter himself and built in under two years with the resources available to him. He seemed to have missed living in a castle after leaving school and decided he wanted one of his own. It had nowhere near the majesty and mystique of the ancient pureblood castles and manors, but it had a famous enough name on it to instantly qualify for fame and glory.

Sullen, Draco walked beside him. He was dressed as finely as they were able to afford, and under strict instructions to make himself amenable to private company if the offer was high enough. Of course Lucius had told him he could be as selective as decorum allowed, but Draco was forbidden to leave this event without considering at least one candidate.

Being the good host, Potter was at the entryway to his Great Hall. All three Malfoys bowed their heads as they passed him, Draco and Narcissa taking his hand as they entered. Hopefully that would be the extent of their interaction for the evening.


	3. Memories

Draco was positive he had been this miserable at some point in his life, but couldn't recall if it equaled this moment in humiliation. Since Pansy's wedding was located at Potter's Estate of course several of the Weasleys were there. They had likely been invited as a show of good faith in Potter's generosity and, despite how much it irked most of the other Pureblood guests, an excuse to have a socially acceptable Pureblood family in attendance. With them in the mix of merry makers the Ministry was unlikely to cause much trouble.

Now if only the bloody gingers would stop leering at Draco he would be able to relax. But no - even casting annoyed glances to the Weasel's wives had garnered him no assistance. Flirting or not they seemed to know that their husband's looks were making Draco uneasy and allowed it to continue. Unfortunately he was unaware if this was due to their acceptance of it or simply to watch him squirm; after all, it wasn't unusual for a Consort to belong to a married couple and the Weasleys were now wealthy enough to purchase him outright.

Not that Draco's father would sign him over like that, but the thought lingered like a dull pain.

Draco stayed where he was and endured it, watching the wedding from a place where he was highly visible. His promise to his father kept him chained as effectively as any metal could, and once or twice he even met the eyes of some who stared.

Potter was one of them, though thankfully he didn't seem to be leering.

Draco drank his wine slowly and thought of the last time he had actually exchanged words with the man. It had been before their last year of school. That last year they didn't say a word: Potter was still recovering from the trauma of his death and resurrection, and Draco was too terrified to set even a hair out of line in a school that now had acceptable targets in Slytherin. Still, their last meeting had left an impression. He hated to admit it, but sometimes when it got to be too much, Draco would stay near Potter as closely as he dared.

* * *

_The Malfoys sat alone and unsure of how long they should stay, or if they should even be there. Everyone around them had been celebrating or mourning or a combination of both for hours now and the three were wary of doing either lest they draw attention to themselves. No matter how inconspicuous they tried to be it was clear they were not welcome by the glares and mutterings and furious glances thrown their way, but none of that seemed as dangerous as the prospect of leaving and creating the appearance of uncaring._

_Now it seemed like a premature exit may be a good idea._

_Potter was staring at Draco. _

_For a while it seemed he was no different than the rest of them. He'd elated at the Dark Lord's defeat, cried over the lost, celebrated with the survivors and gone off in private to have a moment with his love, the Weasley girl. She had clearly been upset when they returned and Potter mournful, though considering the circumstances of the night that would have been perfectly understandable even if he'd just proposed. Then, clearly over exerted, he fell asleep for a while in the Weasley matron's arms, tired enough to be oblivious to the noise and excitement around him. _

_Now he was silent and still, green eyes focused solely on Draco from across the Great Hall. He didn't seem angry, but considering there was no other emotion on his face that would have been preferable. In the din of the aftermath none seemed to notice how different Potter had become. The feeling about him had changed, tottering on the edge of sanity. It was as if, instead of being unbalanced by his death, he'd become so placid that no amount of turbulence could disturb the water. All three Malfoys had noticed and were concerned over the implications. Narcissa's hand was on Draco's arm on the side she'd taken by him, his father's hand on his shoulder. Both tightened protectively when Potter stood and walked to them._

_He was watched carefully by many in the room, as if they weren't sure if he would hurt the Malfoys or they would hurt him instead, but none dared get in his way._

_It was a moment before he spoke. It seemed that in the time since they'd last been in a remotely social setting Potter had learned to examine his enemies carefully. Draco tensed visibly when Potter put his hand in his robes and pulled out the ebony wand he'd taken from him._

_"I'm here to return your wand, Malfoy." he said simply, blankly._

_Draco raised his chin a bit. He wouldn't show weakness. "Do it, then."_

_Potter shook his head, unblinking and focused on Draco exclusively. "Not here. In private."_

_His parent's hands tightened immediately to stay their son in case he decided to accept. "It could be a trap." Narcissa whispered fiercely. "I don't see all of the Weasley's here." Lucius remained silent, though his face was white and his thin fingers gripped his son's robes tightly enough to bruise flesh._

_Potter sighed a bit, looking to her. He seemed to remember the debt that he owed her and his eyes softened from their steely indifference to mild annoyance. "I don't work that way." he assured her. All of them. Looking back to Draco, he nodded. "If you like, I swear I won't hurt you. Or allow anyone else to. You have my word."_

_Draco hesitated only a moment before trying to rise. Narcissa let her hand slip free of him. Lucius did not. "Draco," he hissed almost desperately. _

_"I'll be fine." he assured his sire, setting his own hand over the one that refused to release him. It was a simple gesture, but one Lucius understood. He let go. His hand went instead to find his wife's, and they clasped hands to comfort each other as their son walked away._

_As they walked past McGonagall, Potter nodded toward the remaining Malfoys. "Watch them for me."_

_"Do you require assistance?" she asked, giving Draco a distrusting look._

_He smiled at her and shook his head. "I can handle this."_

_She let him leave, keeping her catlike eyes focused on the other end of the hall._

_Eventually, Draco began to doubt the assurance he'd given his father. Potter seemed to lead him on and on through twisting passageways Draco himself hadn't explored in the castle. He began to fear that either Potter was indeed going to lead him into an ambush and break his word, or leave him hopelessly lost to fend for himself. Finally they stopped and Potter turned toward Draco with a searching look. Those green eyes examined his every feature as if he were sizing up Malfoy's worth, and Draco unconsciously took a defensive posture._

_Harry looked at his face again and Draco allowed himself to relax marginally as his wand was held out to him, handle first. He took it gently, half expecting Potter to snatch it back, but it slid easily from the other's fingers and glowed softly upon being reunited with him. Draco closed his eyes to feel the familiar pulse of it and frowned. "Something feels different. I wasn't sure it would obey me again after you disarmed me."_

_"It's sore at you, to be sure. But it'll get over that in time." _

_"Why return it at all? The Ministry won't let me keep it."_

_"That's another reason I wanted to speak to you alone." Potter crossed his arms and looked placid again. Confident. "As much as Voldemort (Draco flinched) could infiltrate my mind I could do it as well. I saw the things he made you do. The things you refused to do as well. I remember how you cried in Myrtle's lavatory and when you had the chance in the tower to kill Dumbledore. And you didn't. You've done a lot of nasty things in your time, Malfoy, but I know that you've had the chance again and again to be a killer, and each time you turned the other way."_

_"Why are you telling me this?" he snapped, scandalized that Potter had seen so much. "What's the point in humiliating me now?"_

_Potter shook his head. "I don't want to humiliate you. Or your family. My perspective has changed a lot in one night, and though my friends will insist my head be examined for it, I've decided to speak for you at the trials."_

_Draco backed three steps until he hit the wall. "You'll tell them to execute us."_

_Potter's expression changed. He was clearly conflicted. "What? No. Are you mad? I've had more than enough of death. I'm going to tell them the truth. Neither you or your mother deserve Azkaban. Your father certainly does, but I'll do what I can to keep him from a lifelong sentence. "_

_"Why? Why should you care? Why bother?" Draco demanded, feeling brittle enough to shatter._

_"Because it's right." Potter shook his head, a defeated look on his face. _

_Draco sneered at him. Potter had NO RIGHT to look defeated. Not after what he'd just won._

* * *

The memory had hit him harder than he anticipated.

Draco was shell-shocked for only a moment before allowing himself his customary sneer and turn of the head that dismissed the possibility of conversation. Moments later he saw Potter resume his talks with Longbottom again and hoped he had dodged a horrifying situation there.

Potter was not a possibility that Lucius would allow his son to pass up, and Draco wanted to be SURE the man saw no interest between them if he had to avoid Potter like a plague all damned weekend to do it.


End file.
